


In a Town Called Timely

by alexcat



Series: Kinktober 2020 [31]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: 1872 (Marvel), Angst, Has a plot with smut, Hints of Sheriff Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Kinktober, M/M, Possibly Unrequited Love, clone sex/selfcest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:14:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27311713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexcat/pseuds/alexcat
Summary: Steve uses the Pym particles and is transported somewhere he's never even heard of - Timely. He meets the sheriff - Steven Rogers, and Tony Stark, among others. The things that happen in Timely will leave him and the sheriff changed forever.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Steve Rogers
Series: Kinktober 2020 [31]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950220
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11
Collections: Of Elves and Men





	In a Town Called Timely

**Author's Note:**

> I made a Kinktober list from several of them that I found on tumblr and one from Firecat.
> 
> This is the story for Clone sex/selfcest. 
> 
> As I am not particularly a kinky person, these stories will be rather mild in nature. More smut than kink and always a little love, even if it's just for one night.
> 
> There are many Marvel worlds and 1872 was the perfect one to send Steve to meet another Steve Rogers.

Steve knew what it was like to meet himself. Hell, he’d even fought himself when he went back to 2012 New York. But this, this was different. 

He had more Pym particles than the others knew and he skipped around a bit more in time than anyone found out. He had landed in an alternate timeline – somewhere and sometime way beyond his imagining. He wasn’t exactly sure how he got there…

*

He was in a town called Timely. It was a shithole of a silver town somewhere in the west… and the year was 1872. 

He was dressed for it, oddly enough. He looked like a cowboy – boots, hat, the whole thing. The first thing he saw when he arrived was a casino at the end of the street. It seemed to be the hopping place on the dusty dirt street. He headed there and went through the swinging doors. The first thing he noticed was a man who was a dead ringer for Tony. The guy was drunk as hell, too. Then he saw the other man, the blond who was talking to the Stark lookalike.

He is me, Steve thought. 

What the hell have I done? 

“Hey, stranger, are you related to the sheriff?” the bartender asked as he walked up to the bar and sat on a barstool. 

“Not that I know of,” he answered, never taking his eyes from his lookalike.

“You sure as hell look like him. What’ll you have?”

“Whiskey is fine.” 

The man poured him a generous shot and Steve felt in his pocket and found he had the proper coinage to pay. He flipped the coins onto the bar. He turned around and looked at the other patrons in the room.

His doppelganger and the Stark ringer were arguing, but there seemed to be no animosity between them, much like him and Tony had been. Other people were playing cards, drinking, arguing, flirting with the saloon girls – a typical bar in any town, he supposed. 

He downed his shot and put the glass back on the bar for another one. 

“Hey stranger, slow down on the whiskey. I don’t need another drunk to roust here tonight,” the lawman who looked like him said as he turned his attention to Steve.

He drank his second drink and nodded to the sheriff. The sheriff came to where Steve was and sat on the stool beside him. “You’re new here. What brings you to Timely?” 

“Just traveling.”

“This place doesn’t go anywhere. You had to have come here for a reason.”

Steve shook his head. “No reason.” 

The sheriff stuck out his hand. “Steven Rogers.” 

Steve took his hand and shook, shocked at the odd feeling he had when they touched. “Grant Rogers. Odd that we have the same last name.” 

“Rogers is a pretty common name everywhere, I guess.”

He agreed by nodding. “Is there a hotel here in town?” Steve asked. "I probably need to find a place to stay. 

“Just the rooms upstairs, but they come with working girls. There are some decent ones, but a few of them will steal everything you have and stab you, too, if they get a chance.” 

Steve nodded. “Who is the drunk?” he asked, motioning toward the Stark lookalike. 

“That’s Tony Stark. He used to make guns, arms for peace is what he thought, but it never works out that way. Guns kill. No way around it. He made repeating rifles that were much more efficient at killing Rebs during the Civil War and the guilt eats at him. So now he drinks.”

“I knew a guy like that. He wanted to protect the world. It killed him, finally. He was a fine man, though. Finest man I ever knew.” ‘Saved the world, too,’ he thought to himself but didn’t say it out loud. He missed Tony so much that it made his chest ache sometimes. 

Rogers smiled at him. “So is he. He just doesn’t know it. You can bunk with me if you don't want a room here. Got a couple of rooms above the jail.” 

The hour grew late, the saloon cleared out, and the sheriff decided to head for home. He untangled his long legs from the stool and stood up and looked at Steve. 

“No one in the jail tonight, so we don’t have to do anything. You hungry? I might have some grub. I normally eat most of my meals at the saloon. One of the ladies in town feels sorry for me and brings me food sometimes. There should be something to nibble there.”

They walked to the jail and went up the steps. The two rooms that Rogers lived in where pretty spartan. There was a small table with candles and lamps sitting on it. It had two ladderback chairs pushed up to it. There was wood stove just big enough for cooking and heating. Steve looked around and saw a stack of books and a faded photograph or two sitting on a two shelf bookcase. He nodded toward them. “Your folks?” 

“Friends.” Steve moved closer and looked. Peggy Carter was staring back at him, dressed in the fashion of the day. The other photo was Bucky. He set them down.

Rogers nodded toward the photos. “Bucky was murdered right here in this hellish town. Peggy went to California. I heard she runs a lady detective agency in San Francisco.” 

“I don’t want to put you out. I can bunk here on the floor,” Steve told the sheriff. “All I need is a blanket.”

“Nonsense. I wouldn’t have invited you here, if I hadn’t meant for you to sleep in the bed.” 

Steve nodded and went into the other room. There was a bed, which was actually big enough for two, and beside it, a tiny rickety table with a lamp and a book on it. In the corner sat a white chamber pot. “We can share. It looks to be a big bed. I don’t mind.” 

Rogers nodded. They both undressed down to gray union suits, complete with butt flaps. Steve had worn similar underwear when he was a kid in Brooklyn. 

“So what do I call you?” the sheriff asked him. 

“Cap will do. I was in the Army a long time and I was a captain.”

Rogers grinned. “Cap,” he tried it out. “Suits you.” 

Steve lay down and realized just how tired he was. He thought that so much had happened that he wouldn’t be able to sleep, but it was daylight the next time he opened his eyes. When he got up and used the chamber pot, Rogers was in the kitchen, making a fire. 

“Anywhere around here for a bath?” he asked Rogers, coming into the kitchen. 

“Yeah. The barbershop down the street has a tub and for an extra bit, the barber’ll have the boy put clean water in it. You look about my size, you can borrow some of my clothes if you need ‘em. I didn’t see a pack with you last night.”

They ate what must have been yesterday’s bread, warmed in the stove, and blackberry jelly and drank coffee so strong that his Tony would have loved it. It was strong enough to wake the dead, Steve thought. He’d never loved the stuff, but drinking it reminded him of Stark and how much he’d cared for him. How much he missed him.

The barber was glad for the business and Steve was equally glad to get clean. He splurged and got a shave while he was there. He dressed in his borrowed clothing and met Rogers back at the sheriff’s office when he was done. 

“Not a lot to do today. Fisk and his boys are off making mischief somewhere else today,” Rogers told him.

“Fisk?”

“He’s the mayor and runs the town with his bunch of thugs. There’s silver in the hills and Governor Roxxon has Fisk here to see that things go how they want them to.”

“Sounds pretty shady.” He’d certainly seen his share of men who sounded like Fisk, both in the modern world and the 40s. 

“Well, the worst we’ll have to do is run Stark in and let him sleep one off and maybe arrest one of Fisk’s whores if she decides to beat up one of her customers. That girl, Darcy, is a feisty one.” He said it with a smile. Steve assumed he approved of Darcy’s feistiness. 

Rogers bought a newspaper and they both read the paper until they’d finished it. Not much news, but it gave Steve a little better idea of how the town worked. Fisk read as the town’s hero and champion in almost every article. 

“So are you from here in Timely?” Steve asked.

“Nah, I’m from New York. I drifted out this way after the war. I thought I wanted to fight Indians, but it turns out that I didn’t. I came here when the last marshal died by mysterious circumstances.”

“And Stark? Where’s he from?”

“He drifted here from back east, too. He built guns for the union and became disillusioned when he heard about some of slaughtering going on with his new, better rifles. He came out west to get away when he's probably running from himself.”

Steve walked along when Rogers did his rounds and met the newspaper reporter, Ben Urich. He seemed like a decent enough guy, a little nervous but nice. Steve would bet he wasn’t the one who wrote those articles glorifying Fisk even though they had his byline. They met the druggist, Bruce Banner. He looked just like Steve’s own Bruce. He was a nice guy, too, quiet and oddly scared like Bruce could be. Was everyone in this town afraid? 

“You seem so familiar,” Rogers told him as they ate their mid-day meal at the saloon. The food wasn’t bad. They had beef, potatoes and sourdough bread. It's simplicity remonded him of food from his own time in the 1940s.

“Do I? I’ve never been in these parts before.”

“Maybe we’re distantly related. We do favor a mite,” Rogers said to him.

Steve smiled. “We do at that.” 

“We’ll check the businesses on the main street here then go out and see Mrs. Barnes. She blames me for not bringing in Bucky’s killers, but I still check on her.” 

“What’s her name?” Steve asked, knowing what the answer would be. 

“Natasha. She’s a redhead and has the temper of the devil himself, but I like her.” 

“What happened to Barnes?”

“He was a deputy, and my best friend. I sent him out to prevent a lynching. Fisk likes to lynch anyone who gives him trouble. It keeps everyone else in line. Anyhow, he went out to stop a lynching and, supposedly, he was killed by the local Indian tribe. He was killed with an arrow, but I know that nothing happens here without Fisk’s fat fingers in it.”

“Have you told her this?” 

“No. She’ll go after Fisk herself, and get herself killed.”

Steve nodded. Some things never changed. His world had too many men like Fisk in it, too. 

They stopped by Stark’s place and Steve noticed the fortune teller sitting in the front. 

“One of Stark’s inventions. An automaton. Put in a coin and it’ll tell your fortune.”

Steve laughed. “No thanks. Not sure I want my fortune told here in this town.” 

They popped back in at Banner’s apothecary. He commented on how much Steve looked like Sheriff Rogers. 

“Sure you two aren’t related?” 

“Could be,” Rogers said. “We’ve never met before so we don’t know.”

After they chatted with Bruce a few minutes, the two of them walked down to Mrs. Barnes house. Even knowing that she was going to be Natasha didn’t prepare him. Seeing her hurt even more than when he saw Stark. 

“Mrs. Barnes, this is Captain Rogers. He’s just passing through and is staying with me for a few days.” 

“Hello, Steven. What are you doing here? You know I don’t want to see you.”

“You know I loved him, too,” Rogers told her. 

“Then why didn’t you save him?” 

“I would have had I been there. He was doing his job, Natasha. You know that.” 

“All I know is my husband is dead and I don’t know who killed him.” 

“We’ll find out sometime, Natasha. I promise.” 

She turned and went back into the house, slamming the door in their faces. 

“That is an angry woman,” Steve said. 

“Yeah, but she’s also safe for now.” 

They went back to the jail. A dark-haired woman came to the front door with a basket. 

“Mrs. Hill.” The sheriff greeted her. She handed him a basket. “You really don’t -”

“We have to cook for ourselves anyway. It’s no trouble to add enough to feed one or two more.” 

Rogers smiled at the stern looking woman. “Thank you and thank Mrs. Foster, too.” 

She nodded curtly and left. 

“Maria Hill and Jane Foster. They’re widows – well, they say they are anyway. Mrs. Hill is the principal of the local school and Mrs. Foster studies some kind of science, she says. Something about the stars. They do make some good chicken and biscuits. You hungry?” Rogers asked Steve.

“I’m always hungry.” 

They dug into the basket. It had fried chicken, biscuits with butter and honey to go on them, a bowl of green beans and a bowl of mashed potatoes. Rogers got some plates and flatware out from under his desk. There was even a bottle of milk for them in the basket. The two men ate in silence, both enjoying the delicious meal.

“What did you mean by supposed widows?” Steve asked the sheriff.

“Well, I think they are a couple. It angers some of the more ‘righteous’ folks in town, but I believe that people should be entitled to any love they find in this world. I’m don’t think what private parts a person has should make any difference.”

“You’re awfully progressive, Rogers,” Steve said to him. 

Rogers looked hard at him for a moment, then opened his mouth to speak. He just as quickly shut it.

“What?” Steve asked him. 

“I – sometimes you simply don’t get a choice in who you love, even if you know it’ll never work out.” 

Steve shook his head, thinking of those he had loved: Peggy, Bucky, Tony, Natasha. “No, you don’t. It’s a lucky person who gets to stay a while with the one they love.” 

They locked eyes and after a few seconds, looked away. 

Steve helped him clean up the dishes, washing them in a metal dish pan, drying them and replacing them under his desk. 

He wondered who Rogers loved. He thought that if it were someone in Timely, it might be Stark. He’d seen the softness in his face when he spoke about Tony and also the sadness. Or maybe it was his friend’s widow… 

“You ride?” Rogers asked him. 

“Uh, not well,” Steve answered. He’d been on a horse once or twice over 75 years ago. He was a Brooklyn boy. Riding horses was not something he’d done until a few times in the war. 

“We have a couple that are fairly gentle. You can ride one of them.” 

Steve nodded. He flew Johann Schmidt’s Valkyrie. Surely he could ride a damned horse. 

A few hours later, Steve and the sheriff put the horses back in the corral. They brushed, watered and fed them and started for the jail. 

“My ass will never be the same,” Steve told Rogers, rubbing it as he walked.

Rogers surprisingly looked back at his ass and laughed. “You ass looks fine to me, Cap.” He even blushed a little after he said it. 

“Oh?” Steve couldn’t stop himself from asking.

The sheriff shrugged. 

They went into the empty jail and walked upstairs to the sheriff's place. “The Town is usually quiet until sundown. Then all the shenanigans begin. The saloon gets full and there are fights, drunks, and usually an assault or two. Sometimes I take a nap before the fun begins. Somebody’ll ring the bell outside if they need me.” 

Rogers went into the bedroom and sat on the edge of his bed and began to pull his boots off. Steve stood in the doorway, watching.

“Well, are you going to watch me or are you going to join me?” Rogers finally said to him. 

“Join you?” Steve wanted to make damn sure he understood what this man who looked exactly like him was asking. 

“Yeah. Sometimes you gotta take the love you find. Right?” 

Steve nodded and crossed the room. Rogers stood. Steve put a hand on each shoulder and stepped close enough to kiss his lookalike. Their first kiss was simple, sweet, then Rogers upped the ante. He pulled Steve against his body and slipped his tongue into his mouth. 

They fell onto the bed, still kissing. The kissing gradually gave way to touching. Rogers slipped his hand down and caressed Steve’s already hard cock through his trousers, in exactly the way he liked. 

They tugged and pulled and unbuttoned until both of them were down to their skins. Rogers might have been a little less muscular than Steve, but not by much. The rest was the same, down to the small mole on his right upper abdomen. Steve kissed the tiny mark and looked up at Rogers. 

“We’re the same man, Cap. How can that be?” Rogers asked then pulled him back up for several more kisses. 

Steve didn’t say anything as Rogers rolled onto his side and they pressed themselves together, cocks touching as they moved their hips together, all the while kissing and nibbling at each other’s mouths.

“I don’t know. I -” Rogers cut him off with another kiss. He began kissing Steve all over and kissed the same mole Steve had kissed on him just moments before. He kissed farther down, teasing but not touching his erection. The sheriff kissed and licked the darkish hair around the base of his cock. Steve watched as Rogers inhaled his scent. He knew already that they even smelled the same. 

He moaned as Rogers took him into his hand and licked up the shaft all the way to that little vee on the underside that made him shiver. The sheriff chuckled when he heard the moan and felt the shiver. “Does that to me, too. I wanted to find out,” he whispered just before he took Steve into his mouth and sucked him in as far as he could. 

“This is gonna end really quick if you do that again,” Steve told him. 

Rogers lapped at the underside on his way back to lick and suck at Steve’s head. Steve knew that the next thing he’d do was tease the tiny opening until he tasted precome. 

“Oh yes,” Steve whispered as he put a hand in hair a little blonder than his own, mostly because Rogers was outdoors more than he was. 

Rogers did exactly as Steve thought he would, pressing the tiny hole with the tip of his tongue. “God yes!” He arched into the touch of Rogers’s tongue. “Please,” he begged. 

“Please what, Cap?” 

“Suck me. I -” 

“You love coming down your partner’s throat,” Rogers finished for him.

“Yes!” 

The sheriff slid his mouth down over Steve, taking in as much as he could. He used his hand below his mouth to make sure that all of Steve's cock was covered. He moved his tongue on the underside as he moved up and down, licking and teasing until Steve was panting. 

“Do you like to get blow jobs like this one?” Steve choked out. 

Rogers nodded, but didn’t stop what he was doing. His head moved a little faster up and down as the suction got tighter. Steve bunched the bed covers in his hands as he arched his back, lifting his hips as if he could find the release he sought if he moved higher and higher. Rogers slid one hand under his balls to tease his perineum with his fingers until Steve groaned loudly. 

He came, bucking beneath Rogers as he spilled himself into Rogers’ throat. Rogers gently licked him and lapped at him with his tongue until he was clean and his breathing had slowed somewhat. 

“What would you like, Steven?” Steve asked, though using his own given name felt quite odd. 

“Do something that you like. You know it’ll be good for me, too.”

Steve grinned and motioned Rogers to come up to the head of the bed. He had Rogers sit up so he’d be only a little below the sheriff if Rogers was on his knees. Steve reached out and guided him to his mouth, licking and teasing much like Rogers had done to him. Steve looked up at him. “Fuck my mouth,” he said to Rogers.

Rogers didn’t say anything, just took himself in hand and guided his cock into Steve’s mouth. He moaned as thrust over and over, sometimes almost gagging Steve, but Steve never indicated that he wanted him to stop. Steve knew how much he liked it. 

They were the same man. How that could be, he didn’t know; but his Steven Rogers was him. And he was Steven Rogers. 

“I’m coming, Cap!” Rogers said, and he did, coming while his cock was in Steve’s throat. He could feel it jerk and pulsate as it filled his mouth. He swallowed, once and again, then again until Rogers was still and gently pulled away.

Steve lay beside Rogers and kissed his cheek. 

Rogers asked, “Tell me, how are you another me?”

“I’m a time traveler. I don’t know how _you_ got here, but I was using a time device and ended up here. By accident, I think.”

“Are you sure it was an accident?” Rogers asked. 

“No, I’m not. Maybe we were meant to meet. I simply don’t know. I do know I must go soon. Other people will figure out what we are and trouble will come to your town.” 

“Trouble is already here. I’m surprised they’ve not killed me already.” Rogers stopped talking and kissed Steve again. 

“Can I offer you a piece of advice?” Steve said as he idly played with the hair on Rogers’ chest. 

“What would that be?” 

“Tell him you love him.” Steve put his hand flat on Steven’s stomach. 

“Who?” Rogers looked at him, perplexed. 

“Stark. You need to tell him. I never told my Stark how I felt. I have no idea if he knew. If he did, he never said.”

The sheriff pulled close and kissed Steve’s cheek one more time. “We had one night, a drunken mess is what it was, but yeah, you’re right. I do love him.”

“You said it yourself. Time is short.” 

Rogers pulled Steve into his embrace. “Today, I just want to love you. Can we do that?” 

Steve kissed him. “I think so.”

And that’s what they did. 

*

Steve Rogers didn’t go back to his own time for many, many years. By then, he was an old man, a very old man. He’d never forgotten meeting himself in Timely. He often wondered if Sheriff Rogers had ever told Tony Stark just how much he loved him. 

He surely hoped so.

**Author's Note:**

> My [**Tumblr**](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/alexcat45).


End file.
